Uninvited Company
by jarienn972
Summary: This story was my 2nd contribution to the OUAT Winter Whump event on Tumblr and is set approximately 6 months after the end of S6. Emma and Killian are trying to enjoy their 6 month anniversary but as is often the case in Storybrooke, things aren't going to go as well as they planned and they find themselves quickly in danger.
1. Chapter 1

All they'd wanted was a little time to themselves - just a few hours to relax and enjoy each other's company. Couple time was one of those little luxuries that as Sheriff, Emma Swan-Jones found increasingly difficult to fit into her busy schedule. Even with the Black Fairy defeated and Rumplestiltskin gone off to some distant realm to raise his son with Belle, Storybrooke was still anything but calm. There always seemed to be some sort of skirmish going on that kept both her and her Deputy husband occupied.

Today, they'd been married for six months and despite their opposing schedules, they'd wanted to do something special to celebrate the anniversary but they weren't certain they'd be able to fit something in. Even a brief interlude at Granny's seemed out of the question after a Viking uprising against the Harbormaster caused disruption at the docks and a trio of former Lost Boys were wanted for vandalizing half of the town as well as for breaking into several homes and local businesses. While they hadn't really stolen much, they were causing thousands of dollars in damages and Storybrooke residents wanted them caught and prosecuted. For a small town, this place definitely had no shortage of criminal activity to keep their law enforcement hopping.

This morning, she'd learned that the now-adult Lost Boys had broken into the elementary school by shattering a window of a third grade classroom, spending approximately five minutes trashing desks, chairs and even a couple of laptops before the janitor chased them off. Their juvenile destruction might have been minor compared to other crimes in Storybrooke history but it added to her already hefty caseload. Emma was getting ready to head over to the school to speak to that same janitor to get descriptions of the hooligans and survey the damages when her father surprised her, entering through the station's rear door off of the alley. She nearly leapt out of her chair when she caught sight of David Nolan out of the corner of her eye.

"Dad?!" she exclaimed, pushing back from the desk. "What are you doing here? You scared the crap out of me!"

"Sorry, didn't mean to frighten you," he replied in a slightly sheepish, embarrassed tone. "Anyway, I'm here to take over."

Emma glared up at him quizzically, eyebrows knitted in suspicion at his choice of words. "What do you mean _take over_?"

"I'm giving you the day off. It's your six-month anniversary so you and Hook should spend the day together, not chasing after a bunch of wayward overgrown adolescents."

"You remembered that it was our six-month anniversary?"

"Well, not me technically," David confessed. "Your mother was actually the one who reminded me and suggested that I take on duties as Sheriff today so that the two of you can have the day off."

"You're going to work Killian's shift this afternoon too?"

"Don't worry. I've got it covered," he assured her. "Go home. Go get your husband and go enjoy the day together. It's not often that we get weather this nice in November so maybe take advantage of that?"

Emma wasn't about to hesitate on accepting his offer, hopping up from her chair and giving her father a huge hug of gratitude before grabbing her jacket that had been hanging on the doorknob and dashing gleefully towards the door.

* * *

So, that was how her day had started. Emma hurried home in search of her husband but didn't find him at the house. A quick check of the GPS locator on his cell phone revealed that he was down at the harbor, likely tending to something on the Jolly Roger since she doubted he'd seen the report about the Viking incident yet. He was also probably unaware that his father-in-law had given him the afternoon off. With their schedules now free, they spent a few minutes deciding how they would spend their time. Killian was quick to suggest sailing out into the harbor but Emma wanted to take advantage of this beautiful, late fall day to find an isolated place out in the woods where they could be alone - and as far from Storybrooke as they could realistically get. She painted a vivid picture for him of the two of them sharing a picnic lunch beneath a canopy of pine trees, perhaps seeing if their alone time might develop into even more enjoyable activities.

It took only a few minutes to throw together a decent picnic lunch, to which Emma added a bottle of her favorite Pinot Grigio and a pair of stemless wine goblets. Killian rounded up an old, red and black plaid blanket that he rolled tightly to fit into the bottom of Emma's beat up canvas backpack before she packed the food, water bottles and utensils on top of it. Emma shook her head when he attempted to tuck his trusty rum flask into the pack as well. She wanted to keep him sober for this little unplanned getaway and besides, they could save the rum for later…

So they drove out past the toll (or was it troll?) bridge to the furthest reaches of Storybrooke's borders to a spot Emma remembered from her many adventures traipsing through these same woods in search of the villain of the week. It was a picturesque evergreen thicket located approximately a hundred yards from the dirt road that led to the mountains north of town. The ground here was blanketed in a thick carpet of pine needles and fallen leaves that crunched beneath their boots as they strolled arm in arm towards the hidden refuge they sought.

But that was about as idyllic as their day would get. As they ventured away from the road, an uneasiness began to prickle the hair on the back of her neck, the forest growing denser and more claustrophobic with every step she took. What had earlier seemed such a wonderful idea now had her cursing herself as she unconsciously clung tighter to Killian's arm.

"You alright there, Love?" he asked, pausing on the trail until she would meet his questioning gaze.

"I'm just having some second thoughts about whether this was actually a good idea or not…" she replied, gaining a skeptically arched eyebrow from her husband in return.

"Second thoughts about spending our afternoon together?"

"No, definitely not that! I wouldn't give up spending alone time with you for anything, but I'm thinking that maybe coming out here wasn't such a great idea. These woods are a little more imposing than I remembered…"

"If you'd rather turn back and go elsewhere, I'm certain we could come up with numerous enjoyable activities in which to divulge our time…" Emma shook her head at the innuendo laden smirk crossing his lips, but she couldn't deny that he was right. There were plenty of other things they could do besides a November picnic in the forest.

"You're not disappointed? I mean, I turned down sailing on the Jolly Roger for this…"

"I could never be disappointed in time spent with you, Swan."

"Then let's get out of here. We can go camp out in the back yard or the living room instead."

"As you wish," he smiled as they turned back towards the dirt road where she'd parked the Bug, Emma wrapping her fingers around his hook and playfully tugging it, but they'd barely made it a few steps before Emma froze. Something off to their right had captured her attention. "Emma? What's wrong, Love?"

"Over there…," she replied in a whisper. "Looks like a campsite. Who would be camping way out here?"

"Campsite? Where?" He either wasn't looking in the right place or was simply not seeing what she had spotted.

"Off to the right, beyond that row of bushes…" Once she pointed him in the right direction, Killian now spied what had garnered her attention - a glimpse of a bright blue plastic sheet apparently hanging from the distant trees to form a makeshift shelter and almost entirely obscured by the heavy undergrowth. He also discerned a few curls of smoke rising from a still-smoldering fire which, together with the fabricated tent, indicated they weren't alone in this dense patch of forest.

"Looks as though someone's been here recently," he added in the same hushed tone. "See the tendrils of smoke rising from their fire? Perhaps someone else has chosen to take advantage of this temperate weather as we are?"

"I don't know, Killian. I'm not getting a good vibe about this… Who do we know who'd want to set up camp this far out of town? Are any of Robin Hood's gang still around?"

"Not that I'm aware. I believe they all returned to the Enchanted Forest."

"What about Lost Boys?"

"The few that came back with us have a compound south of town. They tend to keep together, the distrustful little sods."

"Then who could it be? Most Storybrooke residents are still afraid of getting this close to the town line intentionally, even if there isn't a curse attached to it any longer. Pretty hard habit to break…"

"I've no better an idea than you, Love," he responded with a shrug, although his curiosity was certainly piqued.

"Maybe we should get a closer look?" she suggested, her instincts kicking in. "If this isn't anyone we know, we might have a bigger problem."

"Alright, but I suggest we make this a brief investigation. The person might not appreciate the interruption and of course, we do have other plans…" Killian flashed his cheekiest grin at his wife, but it was quickly wiped from his visage as a gunshot rang out and the accompanying bullet ricocheted off a tree mere inches to his left. A second shot followed almost instantly, striking the ground at Emma's feet. "Doesn't appear that our mystery camper wishes to be identified, Swan! Let's go!" He reached out and grasped ahold of her wrist, urgently tugging her away from the mysterious campsite as a third and fourth shot whizzed past them.

Emma hesitated for a moment, trying to determine who was shooting at them but all she could definitively discern was that the bullets were coming from the direction of the road, which meant little to no chance of escaping to the Bug. All they would be able to do was sprint deeper into the darkening forest so, as soon as she came to her senses, that was precisely what they did. If she'd been able to figure out the shooter's position, she might have been able to freeze them with magic, but without that information, her brain insisted that flight was their best option. She'd probably second guess that decision later but they'd ran - ran until they believed they'd distanced themselves enough from their unexpected guest.

Minutes later, panting and exhausted, they dropped to the earth, sheltering behind a moss-covered outcrop of granite boulders.

"Think we lost them?" Emma wondered, using her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her forehead and neck.

"Well, whomever we encountered has stopped shooting at us, but unless our unknown assailant makes a return appearance, we won't know for certain." Killian slumped his body against the rocks, breathing heavily as his body felt starved for oxygen. He really must have been allowing himself to go soft since he'd made Storybrooke home because he was feeling every bit of his 300 years of age right now.

Beside him, Emma had dug her cell phone from her pocket but her face was marred by a deep frown as she saw there was no signal. "We really need to work on improving the cell service around here," she grumbled. "There's no signal so I can't call out for help."

"At least you have magic should we encounter this person again," he reminded her as a pained groan escaped him when he attempted to shift positions.

"All the good that did us when our mystery gunman started shooting. No idea where exactly they were shooting from. I mean, I suppose I could have blasted everything between us and the road, but it might not have done us any good."

"Perhaps I should have insisted that you poof us out of there instead of running," he lamented, sucking in another deep breath as his lungs continued to ache. "I'm getting too old for this…"

"Beginning to feel your age, Captain?" she taunted in attempt to lighten the mood.

"Aye - every bloody year…" he sighed, tipping his head back, staring up at the pine boughs stretched out well above their heads as he clutched tightly at his chest.

"Are you having that much trouble catching your breath?" Emma asked, the light-hearted teasing now giving way to genuine concern that he wasn't recovering as easily as he should have from their dash through the woods. He might be centuries old, but his physical body was that of a man in his late 30s and he was definitely in good shape. This just wasn't like him.

"Aye," he replied as she tucked her phone away and crawled closer to him. "It's really hard to breathe…"

"Let me unbutton that vest so your chest isn't so constricted," she offered, pushing his arm out of her way. "I remember those damned Enchanted Forest corsets and that thing looks almost as bad…" Her nimble fingers made quick work of the tiny mother-of-pearl buttons on his black leather waistcoat, but as she brushed the leather to the side to release some of the pressure on his rib cage, a disturbing sight caught her eye - a deep stain on his navy blue shirt. Her fingertips probed it gently, finding it damp, but not with sweat. And her fear was confirmed as she withdrew her fingers to find her skin tinted with crimson. "Killian - you're bleeding!"

"Am I?" he allowed his gaze to drift downward at the apparent injury, yet somehow, even presented with the evidence, he wasn't feeling anything more than merely short of breath.

"One of those bullets must have hit you," she continued, carefully pulling his tucked shirttail from the waistband of his jeans then cautiously lifted the fabric, peeling it away from his tender flesh to uncover the oozing wound on his left side, located just below his bottom rib. "Can you lean forward a bit?" she queried, suspecting from the wound's appearance that this was an exit wound. He nodded, pushing away from the boulder and nearly falling against his wife's shoulder.

Her suspicion was confirmed seconds later as she located the matching hole in the back of his leather jacket. She didn't need to find the actual hole in his skin to know it was there, but at least it meant she wouldn't have to attempt to dig a slug out of him.

"Okay, looks like the bullet went clean through, but I don't know if it hit anything vital. I mean, you were still able to run after being struck and you're still talking now, so chances are good that it didn't hit anything major. Let me heal this and we'll get the hell out of here."

She hovered her right hand above his abdomen, awaiting the familiar magic to flow through her and heal his injuries, but this time, nothing happened. "Damnit!" she hissed, her exclamation exiting in a too-loud whisper.

"What's wrong, Love?"

"We must have crossed over the town line somewhere. Magic isn't working." She let out a heavy sigh as her brain tried to come to terms with their precarious situation. They were lost in the woods somewhere north of town with no magic, no weapons, no cell phones and an unknown person possibly pursuing them. Killian was wounded, potentially seriously, and she couldn't heal him. She didn't even have a first aid kit with her as it was back in the trunk of the Bug. So much for enjoying their anniversary… "Okay - think you will be able to walk? We aren't going to be able to stay here."

"Not sure…"

"We might not have a choice, but first, let's see if we have something we can use in here," she rambled as she shrugged the backpack off of her shoulders and unceremoniously tossed it to the ground at her feet. After unzipping the main compartment, she dumped the contents out, recognizing the importance of lightening their load as she rifled through the varied items. The blanket Killian had so meticulously rolled earlier hadn't fallen out of the backpack so she left it inside, immediately placing the bottled water and sandwiches alongside it as they'd likely need those later. The bottle of wine wasn't really worth carrying but Emma placed it off to the side as she might be able to use it as a disinfectant since it did contain alcohol. Killian's rum would have been much more useful for that purpose since it was higher proof and now she could kick herself for making him leave the flask behind.

The majority of the remaining items would be abandoned - the wine glasses, the container of fruit salad and the buttery pound cake that her mother had dropped off that morning (which should have been a hint that her parents were plotting something).

"Think we could use the wine to clean out that wound?" she asked, hoping the alcohol content was sufficient.

"I'd rather just drink it," he scoffed.

"That's not happening. You don't need to be getting buzzed right now. You'll probably start going into shock soon if we can't get you medical attention." She located the corkscrew amongst the discarded items and twisted it into the top of the bottle to release the cork. It probably wasn't the best thing to use but her options were limited and it seemed better than nothing. Tugging the cork free, she flicked it aside and poured a decent amount of the golden liquid onto a wad of paper towels she'd brought along to use as napkins. Clenching her teeth, she pressed the soaked towels against the bullet wound as Killian flinched and hissed at the pain. He was definitely feeling the injury now, especially as she applied more pressure to try to slow the bleeding.

"Damn, that smarts…" Killian said as his face contorted into a grimace. He knew that what she was doing was necessary, but it didn't make it hurt any less.

"Sorry...Hold this in place for a moment while I get this stuff together. We need to get moving…"

"Help me up first," he insisted as she pushed herself to her feet before taking hold of his outstretched and now bloodstained hand, helping him stand up then releasing her grip and passing the wine-drenched paper towels to him as his fingers slid back beneath his jacket to cover the wound. "Now - which way should we venture?"

"We need to find a way back across the town line. That way, I can poof us out of here and we can return with backup to capture the shooter."

"And which way do you suppose that line lies?" Killian asked, realizing that he'd become slightly disoriented by the advancing effects of blood loss and their rapid retreat from the gunman earlier. He wasn't even certain from which direction they'd come and little looked familiar. "This pirate can navigate by the stars, but I'm not as adept at navigating by trees."

"We'll have to head south - toward the lake."

"And which way is south?"

"That way, I think," she said as she pointed to her left. "I can see the ridge of mountains over there to the right, so that has to be north."

"Is that the same direction from whence we came?" he questioned, his weary mind assessing the likelihood of danger ahead. "The direction we're apt to encounter the gunman once again?"

She nodded silently before following her affirmation with an explanation. "Hopefully, they won't be expecting us to head back the way we came. Either way, we don't have a choice. It's the only direction that I know right now will lead us back to the town line."


	2. Chapter 2

_I got home a little bit later than planned tonight after work, but I still wanted to get Part Two of my OUAT Winter Whump story posted this evening. We pick up with Emma and Killian trying to escape whoever had shot him, but since this is a whump tale, we can't expect things to go well, can we? Well, depending on your POV..._

* * *

A few miles away, David lounged a bit too comfortably behind Emma's desk at the Sheriff's station, thumbing through a pile of bulletins that had arrived by fax that morning. Emma had tossed them into a basket next to the fax machine, typically ignoring most of these daily briefs as it would be a rare occasion for any of the criminals profiled to cross into Storybrooke. Being a slow afternoon, David's boredom had gotten the best of him so, in search of something to entertain him besides another round of Solitaire on the computer, he'd grabbed the pile and leaned back in Emma's chair to gloss over the normally disposable bulletins. Multiple Be On the Lookout or BOLO alerts from neighboring cities and states had arrived, profiling various criminals sought for a multitude of different crimes.

David made himself comfortable, propping his feet on the desktop as he perused the alerts, purely for entertainment purposes. All of these would be routine for law enforcement officials in other cities, but most of those locales weren't protected by magical cloaking spell. What were the odds of another stranger getting past the town line?

For some reason though, one of the BOLOs caught his eye. Maybe it was something about the nature of the crime: a killer from Boston on the run after murdering two people during a botched home invasion who had also wounded the officer who'd responded to the 911 call. The suspect's vague description was provided, but there was no name or photograph attached, just the caveat warning that the suspect was presumed armed and extremely dangerous. Officials in Boston suspected that he was likely headed north, possibly attempting to cross illegally into Canada somewhere along the northern Maine border.

While Storybrooke did lie somewhere along the route from Boston to the Canadian border, David didn't think much of it. Only a handful of outsiders had managed to cross over their hidden town line, even with the magical barrier protecting the town weakening over the years. You still had to either know where to look or be incredibly lucky to stumble in by accident but either way, the town was so isolated from the major highways that the possibility was highly unlikely.

Still, he couldn't shake the details of that particular BOLO. They'd certainly dealt with their share of villains here in Storybrooke, many of them stone cold killers, but he didn't even want to think about this kind of evil from the outside world inadvertently crossing into their lives. Did they have enough magical protection or would magic prove ineffective against such evil? He certainly hoped they'd never have to find out.

* * *

Little did David know that in the forest skirting that same town line, his daughter and son-in-law were trying desperately to remain hidden from whomever had opened fire upon them while, at the same time, trying to determine who they might be up against. They'd been shot at while out in the open and it had been a deliberate, unprovoked act. Anyone from Storybrooke who had been camping out here would certainly have recognized their Sheriff and Captain Hook, so it was beginning to look as though they were dealing with an outsider (or someone without magic who really disliked them). Of course, the latter would have to be someone brazen enough to open fire on a Sheriff who possessed supernatural powers and there weren't many Emma could think of who fit that description. That meant someone from outside of Storybrooke was their most promising candidate - and left them completely in the dark in identifying their unknown foe.

Their progress back towards the town line had been slow, hampered by both the terrain and Killian's injury. While the bleeding from the gunshot wound had slowed, it hadn't stopped and Emma knew that their constant motion wasn't helping, probably making matters worse, but they had few options. They needed to return either to the Bug or at least to the other side of the town line to escape this place, but since they had to stick to areas that provided enough cover so they wouldn't be sitting ducks again, they weren't getting very far. In some places, they had to practically crawl through the underbrush to maintain cover and there was no doubt that the exertion was taking a toll on Killian - not to mention the fact that he was leaving behind a trail of blood droplets and smears which could ultimately betray their position. As much as she dreaded the thought, Emma instinctively knew that she might have to find a sheltered spot to leave him and continue on her own.

But she wasn't going to think about that just yet as they paused to rest against the trunk of a huge tree, one that had long since shed its leaves for the winter. Henry would probably know what type it was - oak, maple, sycamore? All that mattered was that the broad trunk shielded them from view, well, hopefully…

She fished one of the bottles of water from the pack and unscrewed the lid, taking a hearty swallow herself before offering the bottle to Killian. His hand was trembling so much that she had to aid him in bringing the bottle to his lips which caused her fingers to come in contact with the cool, clamminess of his skin. After a few small sips, his eyes fell closed as he leaned against the tree trunk and for a moment, Emma feared he'd lost consciousness, at least until his attempt to draw in a deep breath led to a fit of coughing and wheezing. There was no way that he was going to be able to travel much further so she tested her magic to no avail. They were still on the wrong side of the town line with nothing out here to show her where it lay. She'd tried her phone again as well but as before, found no signal.

Despite the lack of service here, she decided to send a quick text message to her father anyway in hopes that as soon as she was within reach of a tower, the message would be sent automatically. She could only keep her fingers crossed that David would get the message soon and come searching for them - and hopefully, bring along some back-up, although she had to wonder who he'd think to bring.

"Emma…?" she heard her name called out in a hoarse, barely discernible voice as Killian tried to draw her attention.

"Right here," she whispered, reaching over to pat his knee with her hand.

"You need to go on without me…" he insisted, to which she immediately began shaking her head in opposition, but he held up his blood-stained hand in such a manner that would stop her before she could dissent. "My wound is slowing us down… Go, get help, then come back for me…"

"Killian, I'm not going to leave you out here alone in the woods with some unknown, trigger happy person out there. It's safer if we stick together."

"Not if we both end up getting killed," he continued, ignoring her protest. "It's taking every bit of strength I have to remain conscious. It can't be that much further to reach the town line, but I'm not going to make it. You can though…"

"I can't just leave you here…"

"You have to, Swan. It's our best chance of getting through this…" She really didn't want to argue with him, or admit that she'd already entertained the same thought. Injured, he was a liability and there was no doubt that she could cover more ground without him, but would he be alright on his own? Would he still be alive when she made her way back to him or would he bleed to death before she returned?

But none of that was going to matter the moment she heard a branch snap behind them. Instinctively, she placed her own body between Killian and the direction of the sound as they both glanced upward to see the towering form of their unwelcome company step from the shadows.

"He was right, you know?" the stranger spoke, punctuating the end of his rhetorical question with a chuckle that made Emma shudder. "Figured I'd hit at least one of you. You might have made it back to that old German clunker of yours if you'd left him behind…"

"Wha…?" Emma started to ask what he was talking about, but her mind switched gears on her. "Just who the hell are you?" she demanded, possibly being a tad more assertive than she should have been, although in truth, she was rightfully terrified at that moment and fear didn't always bring out her best traits. "And what exactly are you doing way out here in the woods?"

"'Don't think that's important at the moment," the dark haired stranger replied, which was only increasing Emma's frustration and anger. "Seems as though I'm the one with the gun so how about I ask the questions?" Emma held her protective stance in front of her injured husband as the unknown man strolled confidently into the clearing and closed the distance between them, his weapon trained at the center of her chest the entire time. "Just how the hell did you find me? Which son of a bitch tipped you off?"

"Tipped us off?" Emma repeated, genuinely confused by the inquiry. "I don't have the faintest idea of what you're talking about…"

"We weren't attempting to find anyone, mate," Killian added, holding up his hand in mock surrender.

"Not buying it!" the stranger shouted back at them while furiously shaking his head. "I saw the cop light in that car of yours! I know that at least one of you is the law… So, I'm gonna ask again - how the hell did you find me?!"

"Mister, I have no idea who you are or what the hell you're doing out here," Emma snapped back. "We were just out here trying to take advantage of this nice, late season weather and find a spot for a picnic. You can look in my bag - just picnic stuff… You were the one who started shooting at us when we stumbled on what I'm guessing was your campsite?"

"Right… Who goes out to have a picnic in the woods in the middle of November? That's the worst excuse I've ever heard…" The stranger was laughing at them now, but his demeanor definitely wasn't a jovial one as his gun sights never wavered from their target.

"Believe what you want," she scoffed. "It's the truth. I swear, no one was looking for you…"

"Even if I did believe your lame picnic story, you still didn't answer my question, lady," the gunman said as he lunged towards Emma, his fingers grabbing hold of her upper arm while he dragged her away from Killian, making her stand to face him, his angry black eyes boring into her as he repeated the question. "Now, I'll ask this again too - who's the cop?"

Her gaze fell momentarily to Killian before she answered. Had he not been injured, he would have sunk his hook into the stranger's jugular by now for manhandling his wife, but the look in Emma's eyes bade him not to do anything stupid. "I am," she finally stated, trying to return the same intense glare that their assailant was giving her. "I'm the Sheriff of the nearby town, but I'm not on duty today. We were just trying to spend some time alone…"

"And I'm just supposed to believe that, Sheriff? I'm supposed to believe that the cops back in Boston haven't sent out dozens of alerts looking for me? Just what kind of fool do you take me for?"

She knew the question was meant to be rhetorical and she definitely knew how she _wanted_ to answer it, but she wisely played it safe. "Look, no one's calling you a fool and I really don't know who you are. I haven't been near the office all day so I don't know about any alerts." She fibbed through the last part a bit as she watched the stranger shift the barrel of the gun in Killian's direction.

"What about him?" the man demanded.

"He's…" She hesitated for a moment, struggling with the decision of how to identify Killian. "He works down at the harbor in out town. We were out here on a date…"

"Well, too bad for you. Looks like this was a very bad day for a date, Sheriff. Where are your cuffs? Have them on you?" The stranger had yet to release his grip on her arm and she was now being yanked even further away from the still-seated Killian who was doing his best to keep his hook concealed. There was no use opening that proverbial box if they could avoid it. Only now, when she didn't answer the gunman's question fast enough, he lashed out and kicked Killian solidly in the gut, doubling over the already impaired pirate with renewed agony. "Cuffs? Where are they?"

"Jacket pocket," Emma replied as her tough facade began to crack, tears welling in her eyes as she listened to Killian's pained wheezing as he fought to catch his breath. No, she couldn't show vulnerability right now, she reminded herself as Killian's wheezing gradually progressed into coughing and retching while he struggled to push himself back into a sitting position. His back fell against the tree trunk once again as a trail of crimson-tinged drool escaped from the corner of his mouth.

"Get them," the stranger ordered, "and don't try anything cute or I'll put an end to your friend's suffering right now." Raising her left palm in surrender, she slid her right hand inside of her jacket and fished the chrome handcuffs from the inner pocket, withdrawing them slowly and allowing them to dangle from her index finger. "Thank you, Sheriff," the man replied in a sickening tone as he snatched the restraints from her finger. "Now - arms out in front of you…"

Hoping to keep both herself and her husband alive, Emma obliged, extending her arms out toward the gunman who immediately snapped the cuffs onto her wrists.

"You packing?" was his next question, to which Emma vigorously shook her head _NO._ She'd left her weapon back at the station and wasn't near close enough to the Bug to get her backup.

"Look, just let us go," she pleaded. "You can disappear into these woods. No one is going to follow you… I just want to get him medical attention… That's all we want…"

"Sorry, Sheriff. I can't take that chance," the stranger replied. "You're coming with me as a little insurance policy…"

"Will you let me try to patch him up first?" she asked, letting her gaze drop to Killian once again. "If we can try to stop the bleeding…"

"Why? He's not going with us," the gunman stated coldly. "He's a liability."

"Wait - we can't just leave him out here alone!" Emma exclaimed as the gunman gestured for her to turn around. "He"ll bleed to death!"

"Not really my concern, Sheriff, although I'll bet there are plenty of starving animals out there who'll have him for dinner long before he bleeds out. Now, let's get going, lady. You can help me pack up my camp so we can get as far as possible in daylight."

Killian's eyes tried to assure her that he'd be alright. He'd survived worse than this bullet wound and he feared that if she continued to protest, they'd both end up dead. She had to trust that he'd be fine…

"Sorry, pal," the stranger stated as he gave Emma a shove in the direction of the road before turning his attention to the wounded Killian. "I think your date ends here." With a quick swipe of his arm, the barrel of the gun slammed into Killian's temple, opening a two inch long jagged laceration in its wake. The pirate toppled onto his side, the force of the blow rendering him almost instantly unconscious.

"Killian!" Emma cried out as the stranger took hold of the chain linking the handcuffs and forcibly dragged her from her fallen husband. She kept trying to look back over her shoulder, but she couldn't discern any movement and soon, she couldn't see him at all through the dense brush.

* * *

 _It had gotten darker outside_.

That was the first thought that passed through Killian's throbbing head as he opened his eyes and struggled to press himself back into a sitting position, nearly forgetting about the gunshot wound in his side until he dared move those muscles. He glanced around at what he could see around him yet it seemed as though every tree on the horizon now had a twin. _Okay, perhaps the skies hadn't actually darkened. Perhaps he simply couldn't see straight at the moment._ But the one thing he definitely didn't see was his wife.

"Swan?" he called out, half hoping that the earlier confrontation with the armed stranger had merely been a hallucination and that she'd simply gone in search of supplies or shelter after he'd fallen unconscious. He waited a few seconds then repeated the call, but he still heard no response.

Faced with the disturbing realization that he hadn't imagined the unknown gunman, Killian now feared that the same stranger had taken Emma as his hostage. This time, he forced himself to sit up, pushing through the burning, searing and general agony that assaulted his entire body. The pounding within his skull threatened to topple him over onto the ground once again so he squeezed his eyes shut, momentarily uncertain if the stars he kept seeing were actually in the sky or if they were an unfortunate side effect of his head injury.

Finding the sturdy tree trunk behind him, he allowed his weary body to slump against it, his hook snagging some nearby object. Dragging the lump closer, he was pleased to discover that he'd hooked onto one of the straps of Emma's backpack, thankful that it had been left behind. He harbored a smidge of concern that she might be lost somewhere without drinking water, but right now, he knew he needed it. He shoved his hand inside the pack and located one of the plastic bottles, already working to unscrew the cap as he withdrew the partially consumed bottle they'd opened earlier. He flicked the cap aside as he raised the bottle to his parched lips, not expecting to need to reseal the bottle again, and he remembered to take small sips instead of attempting to gulp it down. Once his thirst was quenched, he tucked the open bottle into the crook of his left elbow while gingerly lifting the blood saturated fabric of his shirt away from the bullet wound. He was half tempted to dump the rest of the water right onto the seeping wound to quell the fire, but he resisted that urge and simply examined the angry, reddened flesh.

After lying on the forest floor for an untold amount of time after the gunman struck him, he now had all sorts of debris clinging to both his clothing and skin, none of which was likely doing any good for an open wound. While it was hardly the worst injury he'd ever sustained, as his trusty first mate, Mr. Smee would attest, it still hurt like hell. He knew he needed to clean away the debris to hopefully prevent infection, especially since he had no idea how long he could be out here alone.

Emma had left a few of the paper towels she'd used earlier in her attempt to clean and sterilize the wound inside the backpack, but unfortunately, she'd discarded the rest of the wine to lighten the load. He could use a drink of that right now, he thought, craving his rum, but he was digressing from his task. He placed the paper towels on his lap and then dumped the rest of the water onto the paper, not even caring that his jeans were getting wet. He dabbed at the skin surrounding the wound with a fistful of the saturated towels, cautiously wiping away dirt, pine needles, leaves and probably a few stray insects as well. After patting the area dry as best he could, he used the last of the towels as a makeshift compress, putting as much pressure as he could bear onto the wound to stem the blood flow. He really didn't have anything to use as bandages except maybe the old blanket that remained stuffed in the bottom of the pack but with nightfall approaching, he'd probably need it more for warmth.

He tried to ignore and even control the unholy sounds flowing from his mouth - moaning, groaning, hissing and yes, a fair bit of cursing - all while fighting the urge to pass out. The stars he'd witnessed before had made a return appearance, more numerous and far brighter than before, bolstered by the waves of pain that kept washing over him - until he no longer possessed the strength to maintain pressure on the wound. His hand dropped uselessly to his side when he could no longer hold it up.

And that was when he heard another sound mixing with his own - a low, guttural growl - and it was a noise he was quite certain he'd not made. His eyes which had drooped closed to blink back the stars flew open in an instant, rapidly scanning the underbrush until he saw another pair staring back at him. And these ones were glowing with an unearthly, greenish-yellow cast.

"Bloody hell…" he muttered aloud, not that the beast cared to hear his raspy voice. "Ruby… Please tell me that's you…" The wolf snarled at him from the opposite side of the clearing, baring it's razor-sharp teeth, its incisors already dripping with saliva as the predator sized up its prey.

Having naught the energy to raise his own hand let alone fight off a ravenous wolf, Killian's options were few. He might jest, but he knew this one wasn't Ruby. She'd not returned from Oz where she was living out her happily ever after with Dorothy. It was looking as though this just might be where his ended as his sight locked onto the approaching animal.

Until the echo of gunfire sounded throughout the forest _._


	3. Chapter 3

_My apologies for getting this final installment of my OUAT Winter Whump tale out a tad later than planned. I was sidelined by a migraine yesterday but I'm back now with Part 3. We left off last week with Emma a hostage and a wounded Killian staring down a wolf. I nearly had to add a fourth part to this to fit everything in (including a little bonus that I threw in at the last minute - sorry Killian)_

Hands still cuffed in front of her, Emma faced an awkward challenge rolling up the bright blue tarp as swiftly as her captor would have liked. Answering a question too slowly or not completing a task fast enough earned her a none-too-gentle shove, but so far, the stranger had refrained from actually striking her, although she doubted that courtesy would last much longer. This guy was more agitated now than he'd been when they first encountered him, eager to get moving on his trek towards the Canadian border - one she had no desire to make. She didn't want to venture north because that would take her further from the town line. Further from magic and most importantly, further from the wounded husband she'd been forced to leave behind.

Surprisingly, the stranger hadn't taken her phone. He must have somehow been aware that there was no service this deep into the forest so he wasn't worried about her attempting to call for help. Her brain kept toying with thoughts as to whether the GPS locator inside the device would still work if there was no tower for it to communicate with, but on the off-chance that it did function, maybe someone would be able to find her. Maybe her father, being the often overprotective dad that he was, would become worried when they didn't return by dusk and start a search party? Obviously, it would be better if her message miraculously made it through so David would know they were in trouble, but she couldn't count on that happening.

After the campsite was cleared and all traces of human habitation covered up with dirt or vegetation, they embarked on the journey north once again, following a gravel utility service road. Emma knew that it was at least another hundred miles or so to the border but her captor definitely wasn't equipped to make it that far. He had little water and scarcely enough food for one person, let alone two. There was no logical way they'd manage the several days it would take to reach the destination on foot. He'd been paranoid about cops finding him so there must already be law enforcement out hunting for him. Might there be some way she could convince him to head back to her car? Maybe convince him to drive to the border instead of facing days trying to hike it? This guy wasn't from Storybrooke. He had no idea of how badly she'd magically kick his ass the moment she stepped across that town line. She just had to make him trust her but that would be a difficult task being law enforcement and all…

The sooner she could deal with this unexpected, homicidal third wheel, the sooner she could get back to Killian. She could only imagine how her pirate was faring… Had he regained consciousness yet? Was he getting cold? Blood loss could make you feel colder and all he had was that ratty old blanket stuffed in the backpack. Would he even remember it was there? If the forest canopy hadn't been so thick, she'd half expected to see carrion birds circling above the trees. Killian was alone, bleeding and probably still unconscious in a wilderness full of predators and the mere thought of his situation was conjuring up disturbing images she didn't dare contemplate... Were there bears in these woods? Mountain lions? Another pissed off wraith?

She and her unwanted companion had traveled maybe two miles from the campsite when her alert ears picked up a distant popping sound. It was faint, but it was also unmistakable - another gunshot.

"You have a partner out there somewhere?" Emma asked, certain that her captor would have identified the same sound.

"No partner."

"So, who's out there doing the shooting then? Wasn't me and it wasn't you…"

"Maybe it was your friend putting himself out of his misery."

"My _friend_ doesn't have a gun," Emma stated, putting emphasis on the word _friend_ as she spat it out angrily. "You think the cops are chasing you? Maybe they're shooting at you now too?"

"They wouldn't risk hitting you."

"You don't think so? They don't have the slightest idea who I am," she matter-of-factly reminded him. "From a distance, they can't see the handcuffs to know I'm your hostage and it's not like I'm in uniform here. For all they know, I'm your accomplice. If they're taking a _dead or alive_ stance, you must be wanted for something pretty serious…"

"I killed two people and if you don't shut up and hurry up, I can make it three!"

"Okay, I get that you're obviously on the run and if that's true, there are gonna be cops from all over the tri-state area hunting for you. Probably everywhere from New York to Canada and everywhere in between. You really think you're just going to walk to the border and just hop across? You've got a lot of ground to cover between here and there and you didn't even come prepared! No food. No water. No cold weather gear. Look, take me back to my car and I'll drive you closer to the damned border. You've seen my car so you know that nobody's going to suspect anything. You can hide in the back if we encounter anyone, but they'll just see me as another cop out on patrol."

"And I'm supposed to believe that you don't have a gun stashed in your car or that you won't radio for backup?"

"You can tear the radio out of you want and I don't have a weapon in the car. It's locked inside my gun safe at the station. I didn't plan on needing it today…" The last part was a total lie since both her backup revolver and even a sword were tucked away in the trunk, but if all went well, she wouldn't actually need either.

The stranger thought about her suggestions for a few seconds, then waved his pistol, gesturing back toward the direction they'd just come from. "You lead the way, Sheriff. If you try anything funny, I won't hesitate to shoot you."

"Not planning to try anything funny," she replied firmly, and she definitely meant it. There wouldn't be anything funny about what she had planned for him.

* * *

At first, Killian wasn't certain whether he should be terrified or thankful when this latest gunshot sounded. The wolf who'd been sizing him up for a meal hastily retreated into the brush, but considering that the last bullet that was fired in his proximity had left a rather painful hole in his left side, he was understandably skeptical of the shot's origin. The wild animal wanting to eat him might be gone, but there were far more potential predators out there so he had to be leery of whomever was shooting.

"Hook?" he heard a familiar voice calling out his name, leading him to again believe his head could be playing tricks on him. "Are you alright over there?"

"That's up for debate, mate," Killian replied, breathing a sigh of relief as the face of his father in law came into view. "Provided you're not a hallucination, you're a sight for sore eyes…"

"I'm not a hallucination, but as far as the _sight for sore eyes_ stuff, I could say the same for you." David sized up what he could see of Killian's injury, focused on the bloody gash at his temple and the deep blackening bruising surrounding it. "Glad I could scare off that wolf before it attacked, although you look like you've already gone one round with it. What the hell happened to you and where's Emma?"

"Ran afoul of someone attempting to escape the authorities. He shot me and made off with Emma as his hostage," Killian explained.

"Wait - you've been shot?" David asked incredulously. "Is that where the gash on your forehead came from?"

"Afraid that came from a different blow from the same weapon. The other wound's to my left flank," the pirate replied as he raised the wad of blood soaked paper towels he'd used as a compress as much as he could. "Can't get the blasted thing to stop bleeding, but I'm fairly certain I'll survive if I can get back to Emma on the other side of the town line or with the intervention of a physician or someone who's competent at patching things up… Mr. Smee is quite proficient at that should a physician not be available…"

"You're rambling like a drunk," David commented, concerned that Killian's babbling might be a warning sign that he was in shock. His son in law was always a tad verbose, but this was excessive even for him. "I'm going to radio for help. I'd rounded up a few people to aid in the search party…"

"Do we have the entire dwarf brigade at the ready?" Killian asked as David knelt beside him to see for himself just how bad the pirate's injuries were.

"Not all of them," David replied as he moved the makeshift compress away to obtain a better look at the seeping wound. "Damn, this doesn't look good… It goes the whole way through?" Killian gave a single nod to affirm his answer to the question. "How long ago did this occur?"

"I honestly don't know… 'Twas about noontime when we were surprised by the gunman, but I lost track of time after that as I may have succumbed to unconsciousness once or twice…"

"Okay, it's nearly 3:30pm now so maybe three, three and a half hours? We've got to get an ambulance out here… Think you can walk to the road or are we going to need a team to carry you out?"

"I've no bloody idea, Dave…" Killian responded with an exaggerated shake of his head that triggered an immediate bout of nausea accompanied by a splitting headache. "Damn...shouldn't have done that…"

"Well, we can't stay here, so let's get you up on your feet, if we can…" David said as he wrapped Killian's hooked arm around his neck and shoulders to offer some additional support to his impaired friend. He then placed his own arm behind Killian's back so he could help lift the pirate as Killian fought to push himself into a standing position. "Easy…" he urged, not wanting to make matters worse.

Once Killian was standing on his own two shaky feet, David pointed him in the direction of the road. With renewed waves of aches and pains pummeling him, Killian found his train of thought clearing, enough to at least ask the one question that had been swirling around his jumbled mind. "You know, mate, I've been meaning to ask you - how exactly did you manage to find me?"

"Well, I tried to call first, but my calls kept going straight to voicemail and I had this nagging feeling that something wasn't right, especially after reading a disturbing BOLO that came in this morning. So, I pinged the GPS for your last known location and then made a few educated guesses from there…"

"BOLO?" a confused Killian asked.

"A _Be on the Lookout_ alert - you know, those bulletins that come in every morning that Emma ignores?"

"Ah, those electronic Wanted posters? Emma usually tells me to toss them in the rubbish bin."

"Yeah, one of those. There's apparently an escaped killer from Boston on the loose who may be trying to get to Canada."

"Sounds quite a bit like the bloke we encountered earlier and he's got Emma. We need to find her, Dave…"

"You need a doctor. I'll go search for Emma after we get you back to the road and into the hands of the paramedics."

"I'll be fine," Killian insisted, wrestling himself free of his friend's supporting arm and nearly teetering over in the process.

"Damnit, Hook, you can barely stand, let alone walk. You're in no shape to go traipsing around these woods, especially when you're leaving behind a trail of blood that'll attract more predators like that wolf! There are only a few hours of daylight left and only so many viable paths through that forest. There's a service road used by the electric company to reach their towers about a mile from here that runs north for several miles. It's a dirt and gravel road but it would be the clearest route - and one the State Police are well aware of. They've already sent people and helicopters out to patrol the area. Emma's smart. She knows that someplace so open would be the first place they'd start looking for a fugitive who probably doesn't know the area or the terrain so, I think she'd try to lead him somewhere else and I'm betting that it would be back to her car."

"Then we'll go there," Killian stated firmly as he took a few unsteady steps but in the wrong direction.

"It's the other way," David smugly informed his bullheaded son in law.

Killian squeezed his eyes shut, welling with such frustration that his jaw muscles began to twitch involuntarily, but he didn't hazard a response. He turned around without a word, ignoring David's offer of a supportive arm as he stubbornly tried to protect what little remained of his pride. He didn't want pity. He wanted to find his wife and the bastard who'd shot him and then separated her from his side.

"It's going to be a good twenty minute walk back to the car," David continued. "Longer probably at your pace, assuming I don't have to drag or carry you… At least let me help try to keep you on your feet…" He reached out to grasp hold of Killian's arm, but the moment his fingertips made contact with the pirate's leather sleeve, the ground beneath them gave way, sending both men plunging into a dark, subterranean crevice.

The drop itself was approximately ten feet but they slid perhaps another two or three before abruptly slamming to a halt when they reached the bedrock below. Dirt, pebbles and ground cover rained down on them from above, pelting them mercilessly, but thankfully not enough to risk being buried. David landed on his back, feeling every bump and bruise he'd received on the way down as he pushed himself up into a crouch, brushing away as much of the debris as he could while searching for Killian in the dim light. He spotted the pirate lying face down against a debris slope a few feet to his left and while he couldn't see any movement, a low, pained groan let him know that Killian was at least still breathing.

David scrambled to Killian's side, crawling through the loose earth and gravel to reach his friend and get him rolled onto his back so he could discern whether there was any additional injury from the sudden fall. Killian spat out a mouthful of dirt and muck as he tried to get his throbbing head to make sense of what had just happened. He wanted to sit up, but found himself clenching his teeth in agony when he moved too rapidly so he relented and conceded defeat, remaining lying on his backside, partially supported by a pile of fallen rocks and earth.

"You okay?" David asked, seeing the debris clinging to Killian's head wound but unable to locate any other visible wound.

Killian winced as he tried to take a deep breath, clutching tightly to his injured side. "Quite certain I've bruised a few ribs on that unexpected descent and I'm fairly certain that my left leg is broken. Hurts like the devil and I can scarcely move it…"

"Don't then," David stated, digging his cell phone from his pocket to make use of its flashlight feature. "Let me see if I can tell how bad it is…" Shining the tiny but extremely bright light towards Killian's leg, he could see that the dark denim was torn open across his shin. He was relieved not to find any bone protruding from the skin, but aside from bruising and a deep abrasion, he couldn't make out anything else. "I can't really tell, but I'm gonna have to find a way out of this hole so I can go get help."

"Aye," Killian sighed, recognizing that he wouldn't be going anywhere for a while. "There has to be some way to crawl back up topside. Any thoughts on what just happened though? I didn't think that earthquakes were common in this realm…"

"No, earthquakes aren't that common in Maine, but I doubt that was a quake anyway. Looks like we fell into some sort of sinkhole or collapsed tunnel."

"Like the mines beneath Storybrooke?"

"Maybe. I don't think any of ours reach this far beyond the town line, but there could be other ones out here. At least it doesn't seem that we fell very far. I think I can climb out with a little help from those…" David shone the light onto the exposed roots of the towering pine tree above their heads. "I can radio for help and get them to bring rope and a stretcher and have them here in a few minutes - assuming the radio didn't break…"

"Go. I'll be here, eagerly awaiting your return…" Killian replied glumly.

"Hey, if it weren't for the fact that I dropped the radio up there, I'd stay with you, but you're not going to be able to climb out of here with a broken leg. I'll try to find something to splint it with while we wait. Believe me, I don't like this either, especially when you're already wounded, but I don't see any other option."

Killian knew there was no other choice, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He shifted his aching body as much as he could, searching for the most comfortable position since he wasn't going anywhere for awhile.

"Would you at least lower down Emma's backpack so that I'll have some fresh water and our picnic blanket to provide some warmth? It's grown rather chilly…"

"Of course. I'll get it down to you as soon as I get out of this hole and we'll get those dwarves here as quick as possible…" Killian might be conscious and talking right now, but David was revisiting his earlier concern about shock. The air temperature had barely budged and the breeze hadn't picked up so if Killian was feeling colder, it had to be from blood loss. The faster they could get him out of the forest, the better.

* * *

Emma's feet were aching and she found herself growing increasingly repulsed by - and extremely resentful of her unwanted, unknown companion. Miles north then miles back south hiked with few breaks. God, she really needed to go to the bathroom but she wasn't going to give this SOB the satisfaction. She'd wet herself before she'd allow her captor to witness that indignity. But her advantage at the moment was that she knew she was entering familiar territory and in a matter of minutes, none of this would matter anymore.

They were still approximately a quarter of a mile from the country road where she'd left her car when she could feel her powers tingling within her again. A faint smile crept across her face and in a flash, her restraints vanished. After taking a brief moment to massage her chafed wrists, she unleashed her pent-up fury. Spinning around to face her former captor, she didn't even allow him time to react to the bright light emanating from her hands before she flung him about twenty feet - into the sentinel-straight trunk of an ancient tree that had long ago lost its branches, leaving only a decaying post that resembled a rough-hewn telephone pole. The rotting wood splintered upon impact, but held its ground.

The stranger tried to shake off the blow, glancing up with wide-eyed confusion and even a hint of fear as a length of rope materialized out of nowhere and began wrapping around both his body and the old tree stump, guided by unseen hands. In comparison to his, Emma's eyes were narrowed, glowing with determination and anger, tempered only with the knowledge that she simply needed to immobilize this bastard long enough for the State Police to come get him. Locating Killian was far more important.

"What the hell are you?" the stranger demanded, struggling against the ropes which only magically drew tighter the more he fought them. "What the hell is all this?"

"Just think of me as the last person you wanted to piss off today," Emma hissed back at him. "You're in my town now and this is how I deal with a low life like you…" This time, she didn't need magic to get her point across. A solid right to his jaw sealed the message as he spat out blood, his mouth gaping open when she disappeared before his eyes, leaving only a cloud of grey smoke behind.

* * *

After David lowered himself back down into the sinkhole with the pack, Killian had immediately dug for the blanket, covering as much of himself as he could while pulling it up to his trembling shoulders. He'd managed only a few small swallows of water before swells of nausea threatened to bring it all back up, not looking forward to what would come next. David had gone in search of something that might prove useful as a splint so he could try to immobilize Killian fractured leg before pulling him out of the hole, not that there was any method they could use that wouldn't hurt like hell. Despite his nearly supernatural pain tolerance, Killian found himself almost praying that he'd pass out.

By the time the dwarves and two of Storybrooke's paramedics reached the crevice, the pirate was barely clinging to consciousness. David had scavenged a couple of mostly straight, sturdy sticks that he'd secured to Killian's leg using the purloined straps from Emma's backpack. He didn't figure she'd be too upset with him for cutting them off in sacrifice to protect her husband's leg from further injury although David did hope the paramedics would be able to come up with something better to stabilize that limb. In the end, the sticks remained as the splint but adhesive tape replaced the webbed nylon backpack straps.

One of the paramedics climbed down into the hole with David while the other radioed information and obtained instructions from the hospital. Killian was given injections of both painkillers and a mild sedative to take the edge off of the discomfort he was about to experience from all of the jostling that would occur getting him out of here. Once David and the medic had secured Killian into the metal framed rescue basket, ropes were tied to either end of the basket and he was gradually raised to the surface, but Killian wouldn't remember most of that process. He'd maintained his brave face as long as he could, his features contorting in agony with every jerk and thump until a sudden tilt shifted all of his weight onto his injured leg. That slip incited a scream he simply couldn't bite back before slipping into unconsciousness but at least it meant he was no longer suffering the overwhelming discomfort of the bumpy trip to the waiting ambulance.

Once his son in law was stable and on his way back to Storybrooke, David could concentrate on the rest of his task - locating his missing daughter, who he could only pray was in better shape than Killian. He intended to scour as much of this forest as he could until the sun set beyond the mountains so imagine his surprise when he found his daughter emerging from the shadow of the forest canopy. Looking a bit disheveled and utterly exhausted but otherwise unharmed, Emma recognized her father's face and she hurried down the road toward him as fast as her weary bones would allow. As soon as his daughter was within arm's reach, David instinctively threw his arms out, letting her collapse into him while he drew her into a tight embrace.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you!" Emma exclaimed.

"Same here," David replied as he released his hold on her, worried he might have squeezed too tight if she was injured. "Are you alright? Injured? When I heard you'd been taken hostage…"

"I'm fine. I'll probably be covered in bruises tomorrow, but otherwise, I'm not hurt. I can't say the same for Killian though… He was shot and I was forced to leave him behind in a clearing somewhere a little bit east of here… I've got to go find him…" She was rambling anxiously which drew a little chuckle from her father. Her stream of words halted there and her brow knitted in confusion as it wasn't quite the response she'd expected after telling him that her husband and his best buddy was wounded and lost somewhere in the woods.

"I already found him," David informed her. "How do you think I found out about you being taken hostage? The ambulance left here maybe fifteen minutes ago and I was just preparing to go search for you. I had a hunch you'd try to head back to your car…"

"So Killian's okay?" she interrupted. "He was conscious?"

"He wasn't when the ambulance left. I think he reached the limits of his inhuman pain tolerance, but after everything he'd suffered, I'm not surprised. The paramedics were trying to treat the head wound and the bullet wound and see how bad everything was beneath all of the dirt and leaves. We splinted his leg, but they didn't think it was too bad of a break. Of course, they won't know for sure without x-rays…"

"Wait - his leg? What happened to his leg?"

"Oh, right, I guess you wouldn't have known about that one… After I found him, we fell into some sort of sinkhole or something. We both got bruised up a bit, but he landed differently than I did and broke his left leg. Made for a hell of a challenge getting him out of that hole in the ground but he's going to be okay. Why don't you head over there now? I can drive your car back into town."

"I appreciate the offer, Dad, but there's something I need to do first… Maybe you can help me out here… Can you show me to that hole in the ground?"

"Yeah, of course. It's about a mile off of the road, but mind if I ask why?"

"I'm thinking I need a place to dispose of our uninvited company…"

* * *

True to her word, Emma left the stranger in the bottom of that very same hole, altering the appearance of the ropes to look as though the wanted man had stumbled into the hole, becoming tangled amongst the jumble of tree roots. A quick spell earlier had put him into a deep sleep that would leave him with no memory of the couple he'd attacked in the forest. David placed an anonymous call to the State Police, pretending to be a hiker who'd encountered a strange man trapped in a sinkhole. He said he'd received a warning from local law enforcement about a wanted felon who could be lurking in the woods and the man in the hole matched the description he'd been given. David said he hadn't approached the unknown man but gave authorities a brief description of the person and detailed enough landmarks for them to find their way to the hole and capture their quarry. David and Emma had no desire to let anyone know that the Storybrooke Sheriff's department had already done the work for them, merely wanting the bastard out of their vicinity.

Emma never did learn the stranger's name, but honestly, she really didn't care. While they would still have to deal with the fallout from their interrupted picnic for a while, the unknown gunman was no longer their problem. She was content to wash her hands of the entire situation and was certain Killian would agree. The State Police could have him and ship him back to Boston after they dragged him out of the ground - assuming no predators reached him first. David had casually mentioned that there might be a very hungry wolf nearby...

Her focus now was solely on Killian, who she discovered was in surgery to repair the bullet's damage when she arrived at the hospital. That news gave her a few minutes to head home, take a much needed shower and get a change of clothing. She stood nearly motionless beneath the stream of water, allowing it to flush away the muck, sweat and grime until she'd exhausted the hot water supply. When she finally declared herself presentable, she made the trip across town to find her husband admitted to a private room, sound asleep with his splinted leg propped atop a couple of pillows while a nurse recorded notes about his vitals into his chart. Gauze bandages were taped over the gash at his temple, covering the now-sutured tear but barely hiding the surrounding deep purple bruises.

Emma settled into the chair at his bedside, wanting to be sure she was here when he woke, but she'd barely gotten comfortable when Dr. Whale appeared in front of her. She hadn't heard the doctor enter so she nearly jumped out of her seat when she suddenly saw his platinum blond head hovering above her.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, Emma," Whale said sheepishly, always a little leery anytime he had to disturb her since her actions as the Dark One were still very vivid in his mind.

"It's alright, Victor. I guess I must have dozed off…"

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that we got the Captain here all patched up. For now, I just put a splint on his fractured leg since I assume you'll just wave everything away and magically fix it all."

"I'm waiting until he wakes up," Emma stated. "I can definitely heal all of those injuries, but it needs to be his decision. I already learned that lesson the hard way."

"Well, should he choose not to be magically healed, he'll need to be in a cast for at least four to six weeks and then we can re-evaluate. I did pin the fracture to help give it support but mobility could be an issue… Crutches are likely going to be awkward with his…"

"Hook?" Emma finished Whale's sentence when he hesitated. "I'm sure we can figure something out. What about the gunshot wound and the head injury? Any long term issues we'd need to be aware of?"

"I repaired the damage caused by the bullet. Nothing vital was struck, just some minor tissue and muscle damage, but those will heal. I sutured the laceration closed but he's definitely suffering a concussion. We'll keep a close eye on that once he fully comes around from the anesthesia. Overall though, for a person who was shot, suffered a severe blow to the head, and broke his leg falling ten or fifteen feet down into a hole in the middle of nowhere, he's in surprisingly good shape."

"If you say so."

"Anyway, I'll leave you two alone. You can have the nurse page me if you need me."

"Thank you, Victor. We appreciate it."

He vanished from the room virtually as swiftly as he'd appeared, leaving her alone with her husband in the sterile, white room. She leaned closer to the bed so she could reach Killian's hand and take it into her own, squeezing it tightly and clutching his fingers for a while until she realized that she'd been unconsciously tracing his wedding ring with her thumb.

What a hell of a six-month anniversary, she thought. Their wedding night and honeymoon had been delayed by an evil fairy and her unwitting minion and now, their half-year anniversary had been interrupted by a psycho on the run from the cops.

"I swear to you, Killian, for our one year anniversary, we are getting as far away from this place as we can. And if I ever say I want to go picnicking in the woods instead of sailing on the Jolly Roger again, please remind me of this day and knock some sense into me!" Stretching as far as she could without falling from the chair, Emma gave him a tender kiss on his cheek. "Happy Anniversary anyway, Killian."


End file.
